How to Lovegood
by Scandalacious Intentions
Summary: James sighed. "I want you to know that this is the real measure of how much I love you, Al. I am giving you my only chat-up line that actually works."


**Disclaimer: Yeah, about what I said last night. No, I'm **_**not**_** J.K. Rowling, just to, you know, clear things up. Therefore, I don't actually own either of these boys (thank God) or indeed anything other than a worn pair of socks and a pot noodle.**

**A/N: I should be revising right now. These exams are pretty important, but this would not go away until I wrote it.**

"James?"

"JESUS CHRIST!"

James Potter took a deep breath and shook his head at his apologetic brother. He laid a hand on his chest and said, "Albus, I swear to God, if you carry on creeping up on me, I'll hex you into next Wednesday. What the hell do you want?"

Albus smiled smugly. "Someone sounds guilty. What were you doing down here in the middle of the night anyway?"

The Gryffindor common room was otherwise deserted. The embers burned low in the grate, but the remnants of the fire gave no heat and provided very little light.

James frowned. "Never mind what _I'm_ doing down here, what are _you_ doing down here? _I'm_ supposed to be meeting my supplier."

Albus gawped. "Of what?"

"Cocaine," replied James, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Canary Creams, you daft sod. What do you take me for?" He collapsed onto the sofa and ran a hand through his messy hair. "So why are _you_ here?"

Albus shifted his weight awkwardly and massaged the back of his neck. "Um…well, thing is, Jamie, I was sort of…well, I was hoping to find you and I heard you saying you'd be going to bed late so I thought that if I waited here, I was bound to catch you."

James' jaw dropped. "You're a right little spy, aren't you?"

Albus almost blushed. "Sorry."

James laughed. "S'all right. Just don't want you keeping tabs on me. It would ruin me. Luckily, by the time you're made Prefect, I'll have left. I can't have my baby brother handing out detentions."

Albus grinned and took the seat opposite his brother, wondering how hard James would laugh at him when he was forced to admit why he was waiting for him in the first place.

"So…" James trailed off and raised his eyebrows.

This, Albus thought, was obviously his cue, but he couldn't bring himself to discuss the subject he had originally planned to broach.

"What did you want to see me about?"

"You have to promise not to laugh," said Albus, desperately clinging to a promise they used to have to make as children before telling one another embarrassing secrets. At fourteen, he realised that this was pathetic, but knew no other way to convey his worst fear that his brother would crack a rib laughing.

Albus bit his lip, not sure that he wanted James to know about this particular trouble. On the other hand, he was his only choice. There was no way he was bringing it up with his friends who would tease him mercilessly, or writing to his father who he would never be able to meet the eyes of again.

He closed his eyes, pretending he was not about to have this conversation with James of all people. "There's this girl…"

"Ah," said James, leaning back, resting the back of his head on his folded arms, "now we're getting to the good stuff."

Albus raised his eyebrows, unimpressed that James was evidently about to break his wordless promise.

"No, no, no," said James, knowing the expression in Albus' eyes only too well. "Do go on. I'm just intrigued."

Albus took a deep breath and sat up straight in the chair. He looked ready to flee. "She's in my year."

James frowned. "Do I know her?"

Albus shrugged. "Knowing you, incredibly intimately."

James laughed. "Well, I _do_ try. Though I think she might be a little bit too young for even me. What's her name?"

"Hazel."

James hummed. "Hazel as in Hazel Faulkner?"

Albus groaned. "You _have_ shagged her, haven't you?"

"God in heaven! No! She's really not my type, Al."

Albus threw him a dubious glance. "You don't _have_ a type, James. You'll bed anything in a skirt."

James laughed incredulously. "Well, well. My own brother thinks I'm a tart, does he?"

"_Think_ is the wrong word, James. I _know_."

James grinned. "Look, I haven't so much as ruffled Hazel's hair, all right?"

Albus nodded, accepting James' word as the gospel truth. As he grew up, he came to hide his adoration and hero worship of his elder brother, knowing that it did nothing for James' enormous ego, but he generally continued to do and believe what he was told.

"So," said James, his grin now mischievous, "have you said anything to her yet? Have you let her know how you feel?"

Albus' eyes widened in horror. "Of course I haven't. I don't have a snowball's chance in hell with Hazel Faulkner."

"You would if you'd grow your hair a bit and stop humming Wagner in public."

Albus glared at him. "That happened once."

"Al, you are still the talk of the school for that little incident."

He was forced to frown and admit defeat. "Well, _Valkyrie_ is catchy."

James rolled his eyes, but he smiled affectionately. "Al, if you weren't deeply uncool, you wouldn't be you and I happen to like you very much so don't worry about it. I sorted out most of the people who laughed anyway so to be honest, no-one really talks about it anymore."

Albus sighed. "But Hazel was there anyway so I can't even lie."

"Well, at least she knows you're cultured."

This wasn't much of a comfort to Albus who looked dejected in the face of the harsh truth. Pretty girls, after all, did not date boys who sang in public without a guitar and three hundred groupies, or wore their ridiculously messy hair cropped and coupled it with pullovers their grandmothers knitted.

"Al, at the end of the day, girls date me because I'm good at Quidditch and I'm fairly good looking and they think it'll make them popular. Girls will date you because you're kooky and you're funny and you introduce them to ancient Muggle composers. Girls might date me for a couple of weeks and move on but you're going to be the sort of guy that girls want to marry and have a load of sprogs with."

Albus sighed. "Yeah, but I'm fourteen. I don't want to be sensible and reliable and dependable. I want a girlfriend."

James held up his hand. "Shh." He got to his feet and peered into the gloom. "Fred?"

"Yeah. Who are you talking to?" Fred handed him a clear bag filled with an assortment of goods from George's hugely successful shop. "Your latest victim?" He grinned and punched Albus affectionately in the shoulder as means of greeting.

"He's always going to be my victim," laughed James. "Thanks, mate."

Albus frowned as Fred trudged to bed. "I don't understand why he couldn't just give you those in your dormitory."

"Because," said James, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "then everyone would know I had them and they'd either steal them or they'd keep out of my way and I wouldn't get to have any fun with them."

Albus shook his head. "Do you not think that seventeen might be a little old to messing around with nosebleeds?"

James rolled his eyes. "_That's_ the reason you can't get a girl, Al."

"Because I don't give unsuspecting eleven year olds nosebleeds? I don't think so, James. I think it's because she's way out of my league."

James shrugged. "Your league is only what you make it. I'm not especially attractive, Al. I've got a massive nose and crap hair, but I get girls because I act like I'm sex on legs and other people buy into it. It's all a matter of confidence."

"But I don't have any confidence."

"You don't need it. All you need to do is make people _believe _you're confident. It's just a matter of bullshitting your way through everything."

Al sighed. "It's not going to happen, is it?"

James smiled grimly. "No. You can't act to save your life, but we can grow your hair and burn your jumpers."

Albus laughed. "Do you think I should say something to her or what?"

"Hum Wagner and tell her you've got a huge cock. That should do it."

Albus rolled his eyes. "Please be serious."

"Okay. Seriously, don't you dare change for a girl. If she doesn't like you, fine. Forget her and accept that she doesn't know what she's missing. You come to me, you mope and I feed her a Ton-Tongue Toffee."

Albus nodded. "Okay. Give me your best line."

James sighed. "I want you to know that this is the real measure of how much I love you, Al. I am giving you my only chat-up line that actually works."

"Which is?" Albus perched on the edge of his seat.

"My name's not Luna, but I sure know how to Lovegood."

Albus stared in awe. "James, that's crap."

"Yeah," said James, sniggering, "I know, but it makes girls laugh. No idea why because most of them don't know Luna's maiden name. Still, it gets her talking to you and noticing you, Al. That's all you need."

Albus thought about this. "James?"

"Yeah?"

"If she laughs in my face, you'll want to keep a close eye on those Canary Creams."

"Oh ye of little faith."


End file.
